


Chapters of Mirkwood

by ScribeofArda



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, random oneshots, whatever my brain decides to come up with
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:38:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3717133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribeofArda/pseuds/ScribeofArda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of oneshots centred around Mirkwood, featuring Legolas, Thranduil and my OC Belhadron. Mainly lighter stories, and each chapter will probably have no relation to the others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Healing Wards

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be the place for any short oneshots about Mirkwood, mainly centering on Legolas, Thranduil and my OC Belhadron. I am aware that I often have very long gaps between publishing, so hopefully this will be a way to fill a few of the gaps, as well as filling in some extra details that I will have hinted at in certain stories. Absolutely feel free to ask for certain things- it can involve other characters as well, anything centred on Mirkwood really. I might make another story to publish oneshots that don’t take place in Mirkwood, but at the moment I don’t have anything concrete in my head for such a thing, whereas I have several planned for Mirkwood already.  
> Disclaimer: Ha. Haha. Hahahaha. HAHAHA *cough cough* I own nothing. Apart from, if he turns up, Belhadron. He is all mine!!
> 
> Chapter 1: Injuries can happen in a variety of ways, and no injury is the same, especially for a certain blond elf. A collection of the lighter moments in the healing wards of Mirkwood, featuring Legolas, Thranduil and my own OC Belhadron.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Injuries can happen in a variety of ways, and no injury is the same, especially for a certain blond elf. A collection of the lighter moments in the healing wards of Mirkwood, featuring Legolas, Thranduil and my own OC Belhadron.

When Thranduil was summoned to the healing wards of his stronghold during a meeting with men from Dale, he had not expected the sight that he saw upon opening the doors. It was unfair to call it a summons, seeing as the only reason he had been able to leave was because the meeting had been finished anyway when Galion had knocked on the door and informed him his son was in the healing wards.

This had happened before, and a flash of panic had shot through Thranduil, before curling into worry in his stomach as he had gotten up and smoothly left the hall. Legolas was only just over a hundred years old, and already the state of his realm had left him in the healing wards once before, badly injured. So Thranduil had spent the walk to the healing wards preparing himself. Galion had already informed him it was not critical, but did not know more, and Thranduil expected to see his son unconscious or with bandages.

What he did not expect was to see a fully conscious Legolas sitting on the side of a bed with a scowl on his face and one shoulder looking obviously lower than the other.

“Legolas,” he said with a wry smile. “What did you do?”

Legolas shifted slightly on the bed, before abruptly stilling and wincing, and Thranduil frowned as Legolas’ gaze didn’t quite meet his eyes. Was he…embarrassed?

“He dislocated his shoulder, my Lord,” said one of the healers as she handed an earthen cup to Legolas. “Out on the training fields.”

Thranduil’s frown deepened. “How exactly, ion, did you manage to dislocate a shoulder on the training fields?” he asked, one eyebrow slowly raising. Legolas bit his lip and Thranduil watched in amazement as his son chuckled slightly, before drinking down the contents of the cup.

There was a slight cough from the elf who was sitting quietly in the corner of the room, and Legolas grinned slightly as the elf, dark hair falling around his shoulders, stood.

“It is my fault, my Lord.”

Thranduil turned to the elf. “Belhadron, is it not?” he asked. “My son’s recently appointed second.” Legolas had decided on the elf to look over his shoulder as his second in command, and so far, Thranduil had to admit that he was pleased. It had only been a few months and already word had reached him of Belhadron’s protective nature over his son. He had considered talking to the elf on his own, about another job that the elf could complete for him whilst at Legolas’ shoulder. But those things could wait.

“Aye, my Lord,” said Belhadron with a nod. “We were sparring, hand to hand combat, and…”

“He slipped,” said Legolas helpfully with a smile. Belhadron, seemingly forgetting that he was standing in front of his King, turned and glared at Legolas.

“And who’s fault is that?” he asked wryly. “You were the one who insisted on sparring hand to hand when the grass was wet.”

Legolas chuckled, and then winced as it jostled his shoulder. “You were the one who threw me and dislocated my shoulder when you slipped doing so,” he said with a smile. Thranduil looked back at Belhadron.

“I did not mean to, my Lord,” said Belhadron with a swift glare at Legolas, which even Thranduil could see was half-hearted. “Though I do claim responsibility. I slipped as I threw him and it ended up with…him dislocating his shoulder.”

Legolas chuckled where he sat, his tunic in a rumpled heap on the bed as a healer gently ran their hands over his shoulder. “You are certainly feeling less guilty than before,” he said with a gentle smile to Belhadron.

Belhadron winced as said feelings of guilt trickled back a little, even if Legolas was going to be absolutely fine once the healers set his shoulder back in place. They had merely been sparring, trading pulled blows as they moved swiftly across the grass that had been damp from yesterday’s rain. Belhadron had tripped Legolas, pulling the blond elf over his shoulder and throwing him to the ground. He had fully expected Legolas to get up, until he didn’t, and there came a muffled groan from the floor instead.

“I will be fine, Adar,” said Legolas with a smile, though it was interrupted by a wince and a bite of his lip as a healer began to gently manipulate his arm. “I would be better if someone had not dislocated my shoulder in the first place, but it will only take a week to fully heal.”

“If you keep your arm in the sling they are going to give you,” Belhadron said pointedly from where he had sat back down. “Which you are undoubtedly going to do.” Legolas glared at Belhadron, but it was only for a few seconds before he caved and reluctantly nodded. 

“We’re ready if you are,” said one of the healers, and Thranduil moved over and gripped Legolas’ good shoulder as a healer gently rotated Legolas’ arm, popping the socket back in. Legolas’ face whitened, and everyone winced at the loud clunking noise.

Thranduil squeezed Legolas’ shoulder. “I must go,” he said with a rueful smile. “Wear the sling they give you, ion, and stay away from the training fields if the grass is wet.” Legolas laughed, and nodded in agreement. With a final smile, Thranduil turned and left.

Belhadron was sitting in the corner, looking worried as he watched Legolas gingerly pull his tunic back on, and Thranduil strangely felt a little relief at that. He rather thought Belhadron was going to make quite a good second.

Of course, if he could see some of the chaos that the two of them would achieve over the next hundreds of years, he may have removed Belhadron from the room then and there. Or maybe he wouldn’t have, even then. Only the Valar knew how long they would be able to endure the growing darkness that Thranduil knew was coming, and a few…mishaps every few decades or so would be a very small price to pay to keep his son happy.

He left the room, hearing Legolas say something and Belhadron laugh as he did so. The door swung shut behind him.

Within the room, Belhadron exhaled and let himself slump in his chair slightly. “That scared me more than I am willing to admit,” he said with a grin as healers put Legolas’ arm in a sling. Legolas laughed, earning an admonishment from the healer as he jostled his arm.

“If you are to be my second, then you will have to face my father,” he said with a grin. “But don’t worry. I think he likes you.”

Belhadron scoffed. “Are you sure? Because I really couldn’t tell.” He got to his feet with a sigh as the healers finished with the sling, and held out a hand. Legolas grabbed it, and pulled himself to his feet.

“Be careful, please, my Lord,” said one of the healers. “That has to stay on for a week. I mean it when I say we do not want to see you back here.” Legolas chuckled, and Belhadron nodded, steering Legolas towards the door.

“I shall make sure of it,” he said with a grin. “And I mean it,” he said to Legolas, pulling him towards the doors. “If you take that sling off before the week is out, I will personally go to the King and tell him. Actually, no, I will go to the healers. That would be worse.”

Legolas laughed. “You wouldn’t,” he said. “That is low, even for you.”

Belhadron chuckled. “When it comes to keeping the healers happy, and more importantly, keeping the King happy, there is nothing I would not stoop to.” He looked over at Legolas and grinned. “You are the one who made me your second. You asked for this.”

Legolas sighed. “Apparently I did,” he said with a laugh. He nudged Belhadron with his good shoulder. “Archery training?”

“What?” asked Belhadron. “No! No archery training. No sparring, especially hand to hand. For a week I am going to lock you in the study you never use, and you will not touch your bow or your knives or any other weapons. I do not want the King to accidentally kill me because you take that sling off tomorrow.”

Legolas laughed at that, and glanced back at the closed doors of the healing wards. He grinned wryly and shook his head slightly. If only all visits to the healing wards were as light as this one.

 

0-o-0-o-0

About four hundred or so years later.

“What happened?”

Belhadron sighed, and gently adjusted his grip on Legolas’ waist as he guided the blond elf through the forest towards the stronghold. Four elves moved in front of them, making their way back from a patrol that had ended with Legolas being slammed into a tree by an orc. Another patrol had joined them, leaving Belhadron and four other elves with the delightful task of walking a concussed Legolas back to the stronghold to see the healers.

“An orc slammed your head into a tree,” Belhadron said, his voice slightly weary as he explained what happened yet again. “I’m taking you back to the stronghold.”

“Oh,” said Legolas. “Are you alright?”

Belhadron rolled his eyes. That was always Legolas’ second question. “I am fine,” he said with what was meant to be a reassuring smile. Given that Legolas wasn’t even tracking movement properly, he didn’t think it mattered that much if it came out as more of a grimace. “I was not hurt.”

“Oh,” murmured Legolas. “Good. Don’t want you to get hurt.” He attempted to pat Belhadron’s arm, and missed, wavering slightly. Belhadron pointed him in the right direction, away from any more trees, and continued to walk forwards. It appeared that Legolas did actually have command over his legs, and was able to walk without help. He just couldn’t walk in a straight line without Belhadron constantly redirecting him, and had a tendency to drift to the left until he walked into something.

Belhadron chuckled. This was going to be excellent blackmail material later on.

Legolas paused slightly. “Which tree?”

Belhadron groaned. That was a new one. “I don’t know,” he said. “Just a regular tree.” He saw the slightly worried look in Legolas’ eyes and suppressed another groan. “The tree is fine as well,” he told Legolas.

Legolas nodded, and there were a few moments of blissful silence as they walked back. The stronghold wasn’t very far away at all, and they would be there in a few minutes, Belhadron hoped. For a few moments it was peaceful, and then Legolas opened his mouth again.

“Belhadron?”

“Yes?”

“What happened?”

\---

“He’s concussed,” said Belhadron as he helped lower Legolas onto one of the beds in the healing wards. A healer crouched down in front of the blond elf, looking into his eyes.

“How long since he hit his head?” he asked, his fingers ghosting over the large purple bruise forming on Legolas’ temple. Legolas winced at the touch, but otherwise seemed rather compliant. Belhadron thought it was a nice change.

“About three hours,” he replied. “He kept asking what had happened on the journey back.”

The healer nodded. “It’s to be expected,” he said with a small smile. “His mind is just sorting itself out again. In an hour or so he should come out of it, but we’ll keep him in here until he does.” Belhadron nodded, and settled back on one of the other beds.

Legolas turned to him. “Why am I in here?” he asked softly. His hand went up to his head, and the healer pulled it back down again. “What happened?” Belhadron sighed. Legolas hadn’t asked in a few minutes and he had hoped that he was snapping out of it. Apparently not.

He opened his mouth to answer the same thing that he had been saying for the past few hours, when he suddenly paused. A slow smile came across his face.

“The spiders have learnt how to throw rocks,” he said, trying to hide a grin from Legolas. “You were hit in the head on a patrol.”

Legolas frowned, and for a moment Belhadron thought he had gone a little too unrealistic, but Legolas merely opened his mouth and said: “We’ll need to do something about that.” He tried to sit up, but the healer pushed him back down.

“You are staying here until I say otherwise, my Lord,” he said sternly, and to Belhadron’s surprise Legolas merely nodded and sat back down. He looked over at Belhadron, apparently still expecting an answer about the spiders.

Belhadron bit his lip and tried to stop himself laughing, ignoring the healer’s disapproving look. “I’ll get on it,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Legolas nodded. “Thanks,” he said. He leant back on the bed at the healer’s insistence, and for a few more minutes there was quiet.

Then Legolas sat up, and Belhadron groaned. “Ai Valar,” he muttered, as Legolas turned to him with a confused expression.

“What happened?” Legolas asked. “Why am I in the healing wards?”

Belhadron thought for a moment, before hiding his grin and replying. “Well, there was a dragon…”

\---

Legolas groaned as someone shook his shoulder. “Go away,” he muttered.

He heard someone laugh, a little too loudly for his liking, and then the shaking of his shoulder resumed. Legolas groaned again, and then rolled over, wincing as the pounding in his head was amplified by the movement.

“Are you awake?” he heard someone ask, and he recognised Belhadron’s voice. He grimaced, and sat up, wincing against the bright light.  
“Of course I’m awake,” he said with another groan. “I’m sitting up, aren’t I? I’m talking. Why did you wake me up, anyway?” He glared at Belhadron, who laughed again.

“What do you remember of the past day?” his second asked, and Legolas finally looked around him. He was in his own room, still dressed in hunting clothes, and it was dark. Belhadron was in a chair next to the bed, sitting how he usually did when he had to wait for a while: knees drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped loosely around them. He was grinning, and that was the first thing that made Legolas a little suspicious.

Legolas frowned. “We were out on patrol, and then…” He shook his head. “Nothing.” He reached up to his head. “Concussion?”

Belhadron nodded. “A very amusing concussion, I must admit,” he said with a grin. Legolas groaned.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing much, but every time I let you walk of your own accord you walked into a tree or me, and you forgot everything I told you within two minutes for about five hours.” Belhadron chuckled. “You must have asked what happened over four hundred times, mellon-nin.”

Legolas grinned tiredly, and fell back onto his bed. “Sorry,” he murmured. “But what actually happened? I don’t remember.”

“An orc slammed your head into a tree,” replied Belhadron. “I did tell you this when you first started coming round a few hours ago, but…you obviously forgot.”

“Obviously,” muttered Legolas. He rolled over so he could see Belhadron, blinking in the light from the fire. “You don’t have to stay,” he muttered. “I’ll be fine.”

“Someone needs to wake you up every hour or so,” said Belhadron with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.”

Legolas nodded, and his eyes half slid shut. He was almost asleep when he suddenly frowned.

“What is it?” asked Belhadron.

Legolas shook his head. “I could have sworn…There weren’t any spiders involved, were there? Or rocks?”

He was already half asleep, and so he must have imagined the stifled snort of laughter from Belhadron. A moment later a warm hand fell on his shoulder. “No, there weren’t any spiders or rocks, or dragons for that matter,” said Belhadron. “Go to sleep.”

Legolas nodded tiredly, and his eyes steadily unfocused. It was only when Belhadron was sure he was asleep that he stopped biting the inside of his cheek and let out a snort of laughter. Next time, just because, he really did hope that there were spiders involved.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this as I was sitting on the sofa with stitches in my nose, having returned from the hospital a few hours ago. I came off my horse last year and smashed up the inside of my nose a bit, and so this was a small operation to fix it- it all went fine, though general anaesthetic is weird to wake up from. Anyway, I was thinking about how weird it was to wake up, and then a few other injures I have managed to gain over the years, and how funny it was afterwards (I once got a concussion and couldn't stop talking. Literally, the part of my brain that was actually functioning was just sitting at the back of my mind laughing as I just talked about anything and everything).
> 
> If anyone has any requests as to what they would like to see as short oneshots of Mirkwood, feel free to ask! Seriously, pretty much anything you would like (no smut, though), if I feel inspired, I will write it. As always, thank you for reading.


	2. In my cold embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belhadron takes a dip in the icy forest river, in the midst of the longest winter of the third age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was results day today, so I wrote this over the past few days to try and distract myself! But I got good AS grades, and only have one more year of high school now!

"Did I ever tell you how much I hate the cold?"

"No, I'm pretty sure it hasn't come up recently at all."

"I can tell you are mocking me again, but I'm going to ignore that for now, because it's too cold. But I hate this winter."

"I know you do. You've told me many times how much you hate the winter. But there is nothing I can do, mellon-nin, except make you wear better gloves."

"My gloves are fine."

"They are now. Those old ones…"

"What is it?"

"I can't tell. This cursed snow muffles everything. Pull back the scouts, close formation."

…

"I told you this snow was an awful thing."

…

"Scouts are in."

"Eyes open, weapons at the ready. Move north, towards the river."

…

"Is that-"

"We've caught up with them. They have the river behind them, they can't move back."

"Spread out. Attack on my word."

…

"Si!"

0-o-0-o-0

They had been hunting the small band of orcs for the best part of two days now, tracking their movements through the snow-laden forest. The party had been spotted by a few elves making their way north to the stronghold, but those elves had not been warriors, so had hurried on in the wind and the snow. They had been sent out, their small party of fourteen, a few days later.

Blades were swiftly drawn as the cloaked, hooded elves sprinted from the trees, and the steel gleamed bright in the muffled winter colours. The orcs howled in surprise, but turned to face the elves, drawing their own blades. Behind them, the Forest River glinted slightly in the weak light from a gap in the canopy, its noise quietened by the sheet of ice covering the freezing water.

Legolas drew his knives as he raced forwards. Behind him two of the elves had vaulted up into the trees, and began to pick off the orcs one by one, their shafts shooting from ornate bows. One arrow sped past to Legolas' left, but by some luck for the orc it was aimed for, it turned at the right time, and it buried itself in its arm instead of its neck. The orc snarled, but caught sight of Legolas, and seemingly forgot the arrow shaft in his arm as he swung his scimitar forwards.

Legolas ducked under the blow and came up with his own knives. In the back of his mind he was worried, for they were less than a few hours walk from the stronghold, the orcs moving north in a bid to find food in the less dark parts of Mirkwood. In the deep grips of the longest winter any of them had ever seen, their defences were not as strong as Legolas would have liked. But the cold and snow had driven everything under these boughs to desperation.

His knives clashed against the orc's scimitar and immediately Legolas twisted back, one hand going low to the orc's torso. As he thought, the orc went to parry the blow, and instantly Legolas' second blade shot up. It cut through the stiff leather at the orc's neck, and then down into the flesh. Hot blood spurted out, staining the blade, and the orc toppled to the ground.

Legolas turned as a familiar voice shouted a command to him, and he brought his blades up in time to parry the blow coming from behind. He was not quite fast enough, and the edge of the orc's darkened blade cut through the thinner sleeve of his jacket into his arm. The blond elf winced, but ignored the small wound. He feinted left, before darting right. His blades came into contact with the orc's torso, but it was a glancing blow, and not strong enough to pierce the armour and thick leathers.

The dance continued, but the elves were the stronger, the ones who had not been out in the woods for weeks already, and their hatred for the orcs burnt in a clear light in their weapons. They drove the scavengers back to the edge of the river, and there the orcs could retreat no further, their escape blocked by the two bows covering the skirmish and the frozen water.

Belhadron appeared at Legolas' side, his sword twisting in his hands as a particularly brutish orc leant his weight onto the blade. Belhadron's eyes darted sideways, and he grinned swiftly at Legolas before ducking down. His blade slid out from the grip it was in and the orc staggered. Belhadron spun and kicked out, his heel landing squarely in the orc's chest.

The orc was pushed back, and now stood on the edge of the ice. Only a few were left now, on the banks of the frozen river, and the elves paused, enclosing them and steadily advancing.

One of the orcs snarled something in the black speech and rushed forwards, his blade racing forwards. He hadn't gone more than a few steps before a bow twanged from the boughs, and he fell dead. The shaft of an arrow protruded from his eye. Another followed him in a rush, and an elf stepped neatly inside his guard, running him through and pushing the body off to one side on the bank.

"Finish them," ordered Legolas. Five elves moved over the river up and downstream until they were on the other bank, their light weight not even making the ice crack. Others spread out to the side, covering the flanks of those remaining in the middle.

Legolas moved forwards, his knives perfectly balanced in his hands. He was aware of Belhadron to one side of him, other elves to either side of the two of them. The final two orcs shifted back onto the river and the ice groaned beneath their feet.

And then the dance began again.

One orc rushed forwards and two elves sprang forwards to meet it. The other stood its ground, and it was Legolas and Belhadron, flanked by others of their small company, who came forwards to parry the now frantic blows. Ever so slowly, the orc edged out onto the ice.

There came a snarl from behind them, followed by a strangled roar and the dull thud of a body hitting the floor. Legolas and Belhadron pressed forwards, and for only a few more seconds the final orc continued to parry their blows, until there was a loud crack under their feet.

The orc grinned, and a split second before he moved, Belhadron, his sword still raised in his hand, realised what the creature was about to do. The orc lunged forwards, intent on grabbing both of them, and instantly Belhadron spun in front of Legolas, throwing him backwards and towards the bank. The orc's hand closed in the hood of his cloak, and Belhadron was powerless to stop himself being yanked off his feet.

Belhadron caught Legolas' gaze for the barest of moments, the blond elf rapidly pulling himself back from where he had fallen on the ice, and then the ice cracked beneath them and he, along with the orc, tumbled headlong into the icy embrace of the river.

0-o-0-o-0

Instantly the air was completely driven from his lungs. Even as Belhadron fought to pull himself back up to the surface and take another breath, the hand that had been tight around the folds of his cloak now moved and grabbed his hair. He was pulled back down by the orc, the water pushing down on top of them, trapping him.

Belhadron twisted, his long sword sluggish and slow in the water, and when his hand knocked against the ice above them his fingers opened and it fell from his grasp, spiralling down to the riverbed. The two grappled under the river, Belhadron seeking the air above and the orc, now consigned to his own fate, trying to force the hated elf in its grasp down, so he could end at least one elvish life before its own ran out.

Belhadron lashed out, hitting the orc in the neck, and bubbles of air escaped from the creature's lips. It thrashed in the cold water, one hand still grasping tightly to its sword. Belhadron thought he twisted out of the way of the blade in time, but he couldn't be sure. His thoughts were slowing, and he couldn't even tell if there was blood in the water because it was murky, and slowly becoming darker.

In the end, it came down to who could hold their breath for the longest. The orc's grip weakened, helped by the fact that Belhadron managed to land a kick on his neck once more, and Belhadron wrenched himself free and pushed up for the surface. A hand wrapped around his ankle but the hold was weak, and after a few seconds of struggling he was freed once more.

The water was getting darker and darker now, and he couldn't seem to move his arms right, the cold seeping into every inch of him. He needed to breathe, couldn't resist for much longer, even though a part of his mind that grew smaller by the second told him he was still underwater. His limbs sluggish, his lungs aching, Belhadron kicked up for the hole in the ice again, silhouetted above him.

His hand reached up and latched onto the jagged ice just as consciousness finally left him.

0-o-0-o-0

"Get him out!"

Legolas had reached for Belhadron's hand as soon as it had appeared at the jagged edge of the ice, ignoring the cold biting at his own legs. "Quick," he ordered, grasping hold of Belhadron's hand and pulling him up so he could get a grip under Belhadron's arm, his glove slipping on the sodden material.

Another elf rushed to his side and threw off his gloves. He reached into the water and hooked one arm under Belhadron's shoulders. Together him and Legolas pulled Belhadron up, dragging him over to the edge of the bank. Belhadron's head lolled forwards, his heels dragging against the ice, and Legolas felt his own heart pounding sickeningly in his throat as Belhadron slumped unresponsive in their arms.

Another elf had cleared the snow from the bank, and Legolas dropped to his knees as they laid Belhadron down. He pressed one ear to his chest. "There's a pulse, but he's not breathing," he said urgently. Another elf, the one in the company who had the most healing experience, moved to Belhadron's head and tilted it back, beginning to breathe for him.

The other elves gathered around, and swiftly Legolas issued instructions. He wasn't sure what exactly they were, but they must have been alright, because most of the elves moved off to complete them. Three others knelt down beside Belhadron and began to strip him of his sodden clothes.

"I've got blood," said an elf, touching the red stains in the snow. "Is he wounded?"

Another elf patted him down, and paused abruptly when his hand passed one side of Belhadron's torso. He pushed up the tunic. "Gash in his torso. It's not deep."

"Bandage it quickly," said Legolas, pulling Belhadron's thick leather jacket off him as the elf at his head paused for a moment, before resuming breaths. Belhadron 's skin was nearly white, and cold to the touch. His eyes had slid firmly shut.

"Don't you dare," murmured Legolas. "Don't you even-"

As if Belhadron could hear him, which knowing his stubbornness might actually be possible, he suddenly heaved a great breath and started coughing, choking on the water in his lungs. Conscious, he struggled weakly against the hands holding him down until he managed to roll to one side and then prop himself up on one arm as he retched.

Legolas quickly reached forwards and wrapped one arm around Belhadron's chest, keeping him from smashing his face into the ground as all of the strength left his arms and he fell forwards. Carefully he lowered his friend down, the healer reaching forwards and guiding his head to one side. Legolas shifted around so that Belhadron could see him.

"Are you with us?" he murmured, gently grasping Belhadron's shoulder. "Belhadron? Can you hear me?"

Belhadron's eyes fluttered, and with what looked like great effort he focused on Legolas. "Tol' you," he muttered through numb lips. "Hate th' cold."

Legolas almost chuckled, but Belhadron's blue lips and white face kept it back. He felt for Belhadron's pulse, worried when it beat slowly under his fingers. Legolas held back a frown, and looked up at the elves moving around him.

"Let's get a fire going."

0-o-0-o-0

"Hey. Hey. Keep talking. Tell me what happened next."

Belhadron nodded slightly. "We….ah, I was very drunk…I don't know." He shivered slightly and Legolas tightened his arms around him.

They had moved Belhadron away from the river, under the cover of the trees. Their two scouts in the trees had moved to fetch their packs that they had stowed upon seeing the orcs, and by the time they had Belhadron stripped of his sodden clothes and moved under the trees, they had returned. Someone else had started a fire, and there was now a bright blaze going. Legolas had pulled off his thick coat and tunic so he was just in his leggings, and then they had settled Belhadron against him, trying to warm up the dark haired elf by wrapping the two of them in cloaks that were now serving as temporary blankets.

One of the others, sitting by the fire, shifted over so he was in Belhadron's line of sight. "How much wine did you have to drink?" he asked, and the struggling conversation continued as the healer crouched down next to Legolas.

"How is he?" he asked softly, checking Belhadron's pulse and breathing.

Legolas shrugged slightly. "He's still cold," he murmured. "But I think he's starting to shiver, which is good." As if in response Belhadron shivered, violently at first, his teeth chattering as he tried to speak to the others, before subsiding. The healer nodded.

"We still need to get him back to the stronghold as soon as possible," murmured the healer. "I've got snow melting over the fire. Our ration of wine wouldn't be a good idea, I don't think. But once he's managed to drink something warm, then we should probably move out."

"Is it a good idea to get him moving?" asked Legolas. "He needs all of his energy to keep himself warm."

"He…has a name," murmured Belhadron. He tipped his head back so he could see Legolas, and grinned wearily. "I will be…fine."

"You better be," murmured Legolas, but he smiled slightly. "How are you feeling?"

"Cold," muttered Belhadron. "Very cold."

The healer checked his temperature. "Actually, you are warmer than you were. Do you know where you are, what happened?" Belhadron rolled his eyes and fixed the healer with a pointed glare, and he chuckled. "I will take that as a yes. How easy is it to stay awake?"

"Not…easy," murmured Belhadron with a wry smile. "But I'm alright." He shivered again, more violently this time. "I'm just cold."

0-o-0-o-0

Legolas held back a shiver as he carefully wrapped the cloaks back around Belhadron and stood up. "Are you alright?" he asked, crouching down and gently grasping his friend's shoulder.

"I'm…fine," said Belhadron between shivers. "Put a…coat on. You must be freezing."

Legolas grinned slightly, and reached for the bundle of clothes that another elf passed him. Even though he threw them on as soon as he could, he was still shivering by the end. He picked up the medicinal tea that had been brewing over the fire, and headed back to Belhadron. "Here," he said. "Drink this."

Belhadron reached out to take it, but he was shivering so violently now that he nearly dropped the flask. Legolas caught it and took it back, crouching down. "Let me do it," he said, and with a grimace Belhadron wrapped himself tighter in the cloaks as Legolas raised the flask to his lips.

Soon Belhadron was shivering so violently that he ended up biting on a corner of the cloak to try and stop himself biting his tongue. Legolas watched him with a worried frown as he stood a little ways apart. "Is it safe to move him now?" he asked.

Their healer shrugged. "I'm not actually a healer," he said. "So I'm not sure. I think that he's not going to get much warmer out here, but there is a danger of him losing consciousness once more. We can't ask him to run, we'll have to carry him, because all of his body's energy is going to keeping him warm. But then if he isn't moving, he'll get colder." He sighed. "I'm sorry, my Lord, but I don't know. It's your decision."

Legolas nodded. "We'll move out," he said. "Take the most direct route back to the stronghold at a fast pace. You and I will take Belhadron between us." The healer nodded, and Legolas turned to the rest of the company.

"We're moving out," he ordered. "Get all the supplies packed, even the wet clothes, and put the fire out. Someone dig out the thickest, warmest spare clothes we have for Belhadron, and once we're ready we have an hour, maybe more, before reaching the stronghold. I want both of you," he said, nodding at the scouts, "up in front of us, scouting ahead. Let's go."

The others dispersed, and Legolas made his way over to Belhadron. The dark haired elf was barely visible under the blankets covering him, but he was talking tiredly to one of the elves sitting nearby. Legolas chuckled slightly as he heard the story Belhadron was murmuring, and clapped the other elf on the shoulder in greetings as he crouched down.

"We're going to get ready to go now," Legolas said to Belhadron. "Don't try to do anything, we'll handle it all." Belhadron grimaced, and pushed himself up, but still he was far too pale, and was beginning to wince as the trembles of his body only became more violent.

They gave him the warmest clothes that they had on them, wrapping him in about three cloaks before Legolas pulled him to his feet. Belhadron swayed, and would have fallen had Legolas not caught him. He gently rested the dark haired elf against his side. "Are you alright?"

Belhadron winced. "Yes," he hissed out through clenched teeth. "I'm-" He tried to take a step forwards but stumbled instead. Legolas tightened his grip and pulled him back up.

"Don't try and do too much," he said. "We've got this. The two of us are going to carry most of your weight. Keep up if you can, but if you can't, let us do the work."

The healer on the other side of them nodded. "Don't be foolish here," he said. "Your body has gone through a lot in a short space of time, and you're doing remarkably well for someone who just took a swim in a frozen over river. Whatever you do, though, do not fall asleep. If you feel yourself getting tired, then warn us. Don't fall asleep."

Belhadron nodded. "Don't fall asleep," he said. "Understood." He pulled himself a little more upright against Legolas, though his legs threatened to buckle. Legolas slung one of his arms over his own shoulders, and the healer moved to the other side, doing the same. Belhadron found his footing again, and shivered, his teeth chattering.

They moved out as it began to lightly snow once more, flakes drifting down through the bare branches above them to land as specks of white on grey cloaks. The forest was muted, the white snow below the grey branches, which sat still below a grey sky.

0-o-0-o-0

"How are you doing?"

"Can't complain." Belhadron's voice was thick, his words slurring more noticeably than before, and Legolas glanced at him as best he could. Belhadron's head tipped wearily to one side.

"Stay awake," warned Legolas. "Belhadron, you need to stay awake. We're nearly back. We're close now." He shifted Belhadron slightly, shaking him. "Belhadron?"

Belhadron lifted his head, but it appeared to take effort. "I'm here," he said. "Right next to you." He coughed, wincing at the rawness in his throat and the spasms of his body. "How far are we?"

"We're pretty close now," replied Legolas. "Just hang on for a little longer now, alright? Just a little longer." They had been moving at a fast pace for the best part of an hour, though not as fast as Legolas would have liked. As they had drawn further north he had pulled back the two scouts, and they now moved together as a close company, treading lightly over the drifts of snow that had gathered beneath the bare boughs.

"Legolas."

Belhadron's voice was quiet, and Legolas and the healer slowed, Legolas shifting so he could turn and face the dark haired elf slumped between them. "What is it?" he asked.

"You know how…you said not to…fall asleep?" murmured Belhadron, his head dropping. He looked up again at Legolas, but his gaze wavered, and soon he dropped his head back down.

Legolas held up one hand, and the company came to a halt. He swiftly turned to Belhadron, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist as their healer took most of the weight. "Belhadron," he said urgently, tilting his head back up. "Belhadron, stay awake. You need to stay awake."

"'m…tryin'," Belhadron murmured. His eyes fluttered shut and he sagged back into the healer's arms. It would be just so easy for him to sleep, to shut his eyes and drift off. The darkness was so enticing. Maybe if he slept, he wouldn't notice the cold.

"Belhadron." Legolas shook his friend slightly. "Belhadron, open your eyes." With a hiss through his clenched teeth, Legolas drew back his hand and slapped Belhadron, the sound ringing through the otherwise near silent forest.

Belhadron started, and then his eyes fluttered open as he frowned. "That…hurt," he murmured. He looked up at Legolas, and grinned weakly. "Sorry."

In the next moment he lost consciousness and tipped forwards. Between them, Legolas and the healer propped Belhadron up, but nothing woke the dark haired elf up, not even Legolas slapping him once more. Legolas pushed back any semblance of panic that was welling up at the sight of Belhadron, unresponsive and pale.

"I need four people to run ahead and alert the healers," he said, and instantly four elves stepped forwards. Legolas nodded gratefully at them, and asked them to relay a few messages, and then they turned and sprinted off through the trees.

Another elf offered to take part of the weight of Belhadron, and the healer stepped away. There was little he could do now without reaching the stronghold, though he stayed close. Legolas took the other side once more, and then they began to run through the bare trees, Belhadron hanging unresponsive between the two of them.

It took them about twenty minutes to reach the stronghold, running as fast as they could with an unconscious elf and no other way of carrying him. The gates were shut, but as soon as they came close they were flung open, and healers were already waiting on the other side. Legolas and the other elf raced over the bridge. The warmth of the fires burning inside, the heat trapped in the deep old stone, hit them firmly as soon as they crossed the threshold, and Legolas almost struggled for a breath for a moment.

He lowered Belhadron down onto the waiting stretcher, and almost immediately two healers picked up the stretcher and moved off. Legolas made an aborted move to follow them before remembering that he had a company to lead.

Legolas held back a sigh, and turned towards another corridor, leading his elves down to one of the large rooms where they often debriefed. There was a fire in the hearth, and some elves who looked like they had just come in from patrol a little while ago sitting around the fire. They looked up as Legolas' small party trooped wearily in.

"We heard what happened," one of them said, turning around in his chair with a worried look. "How is he?"

Legolas sighed, and sat down heavily in one of the chairs around the table. "With the healers," he said. "He…ah, he seemed to be alright, but lost consciousness about twenty minutes ago. He wasn't breathing when we pulled him from the river."

Someone made a generic sympathetic noise, and there were a few worried faces amongst those in the room. "On the grand scale of things that have happened," said another. "This doesn't come near the top. He's back here now, and that's the best place he can be. He should be alright."

Someone else smiled wryly. "I think Belhadron is too stubborn to let an icy swim do much damage to him." There were a few strained chuckles around the room, but it was dampened by the cold and the wind and snow outside. Legolas felt the corners of his mouth twitch up in a half-hearted smile, but it was short lived. He only hoped that they were right.

0-o-0-o-0

"How is he?"

"There hasn't been any news. Whether that is a good thing or not, I don't know, but nobody has come to fetch me at all."

Thranduil sighed softly. "That is probably a good thing," he said. "If something was to happen, you are the person they would go to first. And it has not been very long since you arrived back." He studied his son as he sat down opposite his desk, and noticed the worry that was fairly well concealed, if not well enough.

Legolas gave his report swiftly, speaking of the state of the woods that they had seen, the party of orcs that they had tracked and taken down. "They were desperate, in coming so far north," he said. "And it showed. The others of the company agree with me that they were almost definitely a rogue band that were going north in the hope of staying alive."

Thranduil nodded. "You are still taking the party south in a few days," he said. "They may be a rogue band, but we do not know enough about what state the southern woods are in. We should take advantage of this gap in the weather, little though it may seem."

Legolas nodded. "There should not be much danger, but a larger party would be better anyway. We don't want anyone else going through the ice. If we were further out from the stronghold…" He abruptly stopped talking, as if his lips kept forming the words but he couldn't say them. Thranduil walked around from his desk and gripped Legolas' shoulder.

"It does not get any easier," he said. "But do not think of what may have occurred. Think only of what has happened." He saw the worry and fear in Legolas' face even so, worry at what could have happened, at what may still happen as he plays captain and commander, and Thranduil sighed.

"There are many different roles we play," he said softly. "And you play more roles than most. You must be Prince and heir and commander and archer, and more besides. It is rare for either of us to be able to put aside those roles and do what we want to do. But above all, you are his friend, and that is not a role you can just take up and put down, just as I cannot stop being your father, nor you my son. And such roles can be painful, sometimes, but I think that they are worth it." Oh, he knew just how painful such a role had been, had seen it all before, but there were moments that made the pain not matter in the slightest.

"Go to the healing wards," said Thranduil. "We are done here for tonight."

The corners of Legolas' lips turned up briefly, and he stood quickly from his chair. "Thank you, Adar."

Thranduil smiled softly. "Go on," he said. "I will send anyone asking for you to the wards if it is urgent. Make sure you get some rest as well, ion, and get that cut on your arm bandaged whilst you are there." Though Legolas had not mentioned it, had indeed forgotten about the trivial injury, Thranduil had not missed the small tear, or the patch of blood on his son's forearm. Legolas nodded with a small smile, and then took his leave.

Thranduil watched him slip out of the door. With a sigh, he sat back down at his desk. Belhadron was a dear friend to Legolas, as well as a useful captain, someone with sharp eyes and unwavering loyalty to his son. And though his life was not in danger now, some day it might be. Thranduil only hoped Legolas would be able to keep playing his other roles, for he would be needed, though it would be cruel. The Valar knew that Thranduil himself struggled, when Legolas was lying unconscious in the healing wards, and Legolas was not such an intimate friend of grief as he had come to be.

He sighed again, his gaze far away. Oh, the roles that they had to play.

0-o-0-o-0

Everything sounded muffled.

He could hear people moving around him, hear someone speaking orders with the soft authority that came with the absolute certainty that they would be obeyed. He wondered if the orders were meant for him, but he figured that if nobody was waking him up, or trying to get him to pay attention, they he did not have to wake up and pay attention.

His hearing became sharper, and he could hear the soft breathing of someone sitting close to him, and the rustle of parchment. He was tempted to turn towards the sound, to open his eyes and see what he was doing now, but the allure of sleep was too strong, and if nobody needed him awake, then he would sleep.

He must have moved a little, because the rustling of parchment ceased and then he heard someone softly saying his name, but it was too late, and he was already drifting back to sleep.

The next time he woke, he woke drowning.

He struggled to sit up with a gasp of air, but something heavy was on top of him. He couldn't move his arms, couldn't free them to push off whatever was over him. He strained to sit up again, and a shooting pain shot through his side that left him gasping once more for breath.

"Belhadron!"

The voice cut through the air and instantly Belhadron lay back down, his mind already sharpening. He breathed in deeply, relishing the clean air, and turned to look at Legolas.

The blond elf was sitting next to him, reaching forwards with a worried look. As Belhadron turned to face him he breathed a sigh of relief, and sat back. "I thought you were going to pull your stitches," he said with a soft smile.

Belhadron hummed in agreement. "I thought I was underwater again," he rasped, his voice hoarse. Legolas helped him sit up, and he looked down at the thick array of blankets over him. "These probably don't help."

"You're probably warm enough that we can take a few off," said Legolas, pulling at the top one. Belhadron took the opportunity to look around.

He was in the healing wards, that was obvious. It was dark outside, but he had no way of knowing if the sun had just set, or if it was to rise soon. Legolas' chair was pulled up next to the bed, and the table at the side had a pile of paper and a quill lying on it. A heavy winter cloak and jacket, amongst other things, lay over the back of the chair, Legolas in a thinner hunting tunic and soft leggings.

"What time is it?" he asked, running one hand over his face and hissing as it pulled on his stitches. "How long have I been out?"

Legolas sat back in the chair, dumping the blankets on the empty bed next to them. "You were only unconscious for an hour or so," he said. "You've actually been waking up, on and off, for the past few hours, but this is the first time you have been coherent. It's now an hour or two past sunset, I think."

Belhadron nodded, and then shivered slightly as flashes of twisting underwater came back to him. "What happened once you dragged me out of the river?" he asked.

Legolas looked surprised. "You don't remember?" he asked. "You were fairly awake for parts of it."

"I can remember sitting by a fire, leaning back on you and being wrapped in around twenty cloaks," replied Belhadron with a wry smile. "Did you carry me back to the stronghold?"

Legolas chuckled, and nodded, but his smile soon faded. "You weren't breathing when we first got you out," he said softly. "And it didn't feel like there was any warmth left in your body. You were conscious fairly quickly then, once you got the water out of your lungs, but then about twenty minutes out of the stronghold you lost consciousness once more. According to the healers that can happen, a delayed reaction of sorts."

"I'm alright," said Belhadron softly. "Nothing happened that was any worse than what we normally go through. I was due for something anyway. It's been years since I was last wounded."

Legolas shook his head. "You pushed me back from the ice," he said. "You knew what the orc was trying to do, and so you pushed me away and let yourself be dragged into the river. If we had been any further from the stronghold, if you had been under for much longer…" He trailed off, and ran his hands through his hair. "You scared me for a moment, mellon-nin."

"I can't help it," protested Belhadron with a wry smile. "It's not my fault. Well, I suppose it could be seen as my fault, but that's not the point. Things like this happen. I'm alright. I'm never going near a frozen river again, but other than that, I will be fine."

Legolas laughed. "I cannot blame you for that," he said with a smile. "You've ruined your gloves, by the way. You'll need a new pair. And your dagger stayed in its sheath, but you lost your sword in the river." He reached down and pulled something out from underneath the chair. "I had someone bring this one to me, as a gift to you instead."

Belhadron reached out and took the blade. It was in a sheath, dark leather etched with flowing lines of script entwined in leaves. Belhadron pulled the blade out a little, his hand fitting smoothly around the hilt. "I remember this blade," he said slowly. "This is yours."

"When was the last time you saw me fight with a sword?" asked Legolas. "This one does nothing except gather dust. You will put it to good use." His tone, Belhadron knew, meant he would not argue upon this matter, and so Belhadron merely thanked him and handed back the blade. Legolas rested it against the table.

"You should rest," he said.

"So should you," replied Belhadron. "You haven't even put away your weapons." It was true: Legolas' quiver hung on the back of his chair. "Have you eaten?"

Legolas laughed, and shook his head. "Get some sleep," he said again. "The healers will probably wake you up soon enough anyway, but I will be here."

Belhadron was willing to argue his point, but his body had other ideas, and he soon felt himself tiring. He shifted so he was lying flat once more, turning slightly on his side so as not to put pressure on his wound. Legolas sat back in the chair next to him and picked up one of the pieces of parchment, kicking his legs up so they were resting on the edge of the bed.

"One more thing," murmured Belhadron, his voice weary.

Legolas looked over at him. "What?"

Belhadron grinned. "I really hate the cold now."

Legolas groaned, tipping his head back, and then laughed. "I think I do now as well." He glanced out of the window, to the snow hidden by the night. "But I would not worry," he said, looking back at Belhadron with a smile.

"No winter can last forever."

The End


	3. Chapter 3: Complete Control...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the general trials and tribulations of Legolas and his horse: the first part of a two part story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, this oneshot, which is actually coming in two parts, is based around Legolas and a horse, following the horse as it grows up from a foal. There are some time jumps, and in no way is there everything in this story that could be- it takes an awful lot to train up a horse, and I can't fit all of it in!
> 
> The horse is based off my own, who is called Tom. As there is no Sindarin equivalent for Tom, because the name means twin, and that would be a bit of a weird thing to call the horse, I have based the horse's name off of Tom's real name. Basically, horses often have two names- their real one, on their passport, which often has something to do with their breeding (think names of racehorses) and then a stable name, a nickname which is easier to say. A loose translation of Tom's name is what I have used in Sindarin for this horse's name: I have called him Hrivo, which means 'of winter'. It's pronounced 'ree-vo', with a slight trill on the r to accent the h at the beginning.
> 
> As I said earlier, there will be a second part to this story, so if there isn't a huge amount of action in this bit, it is coming next week. That chapter will be published next Saturday- a week today. As always, reviews are seriously welcome. Also, I am trying to work on a much larger story, but what with real life being so annoying, it is coming quite slowly.
> 
> EDIT: Someone pointed out to me on ff.net (where I also post, under Scribe-of-Arda) that I have been spelling Hrivo's name wrong this entire time! I was writing Hivro, when it is meant to be Hrivo. So that has now been changed. The pronunciation still stands.
> 
> Disclaimer: the horses and Belhadron belong to me. As for the rest, it is all the property of the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien.

_The beauty of horseback riding is that you need to learn how to be in complete control while at the same time in complete surrender. It's a condition that you cannot explain until you have climbed onto the back of a horse and held the reins in your hand.  
(Unknown)_

_0-o-0-o-0_

His footsteps were quiet as he walked down past the stalls. Though the wind howled outside, blowing drifts of snow up against the stronghold of his realm, inside the stables it was warm and the sound was muffled and distant. The stables smelled of hay and straw and that musky scent that every horse possesses. To an elf, one who knew his realm well, the smell was comforting and warm.

Lamps were lit at either side of one of the stalls, a larger barn towards one end of the stables. In the middle of the night there were few elves about, with most of the horses asleep. A few, however, were moving around towards the end of the stables, and one elf was leaning over the door of the lit stall. His blond hair hung around his shoulders and caught the orange light of the lamps, glinting softly.

Thranduil came to his son's side and looked into the stall. A warm smile came over his face. "How long ago?" he asked.

Legolas tore his gaze away and looked up at his father. "Not too long," he said quietly. "But they're doing well." His gaze turned back to the two horses in the stall, and he smiled softly at the sight.

A mare stood towards the back of the large stable, her head down in exhaustion. As Thranduil arrived she lifted her head, momentarily pinning her ears back. It was a warning to the Elvenking not to get too close, before her attention returned to what was at her feet.

A foal lay in a deep bed of straw at her feet. His coat was still wet, and beginning to curl. He was almost black in the dim light, but Legolas could tell from the white hairs around his muzzle that he would turn grey as he grew older. A tuft of a tail slowly shifted in amongst the straw. His mother bent her head to him and began to lick him once more, drying his coat.

"It is a colt, is it not?" asked Thranduil.

Legolas nodded. "Not worth as much, I know, but he is going to be handsome once he is grown, and a good colour. Tuilinn has done well." The mare was Legolas' own horse, one he had been given a while ago, and this was her first foal.

"You will take him on, then?" asked Thranduil, watching as Tuilinn began to nudge her foal, encouraging him to stand up. It was early for a foal to stand, but that did not seem to dismay the colt, for he thrust first one spindly leg underneath him, and then another, coming to stand on two wobbly back legs, his shoulders still on the ground. For a few moments it seemed as if he would rise, and then he wobbled and fell back to the straw. Legolas chuckled softly.

"Yes, I will take him on," he said. "I think Tuilinn will be getting a little old soon to be doing as much work as she does, and he will hopefully be less spirited than her." Tuilinn was known amongst the grooms as one who would have her own way, and nothing else.

"I would not be so sure," said Thranduil with a slight chuckle as the colt attempted to stand again, only to fall down to the straw once more. "He will be a strong horse, though. His build is thick enough that he will not be easily injured, but he will still be slim enough to gallop between our trees." Legolas nodded, his eyes still on the colt.

"I haven't trained a horse for a while now," he murmured. "And right now, we have enough peace that I could spend more time with him." He grinned softly. "It will be an interesting few years."

Thranduil nodded, and in that moment they were just father and son, watching the colt as he struggled to get to his feet. There were a few moments as he wobbled unsteadily, kneeling on his front legs, and then with a nudge from Tuilinn, he got to his feet.

Legolas laughed softly at the sight as the colt took a few steps, before seemingly gaining his confidence and jumping slightly, kicking out with one leg. Tuilinn snorted in what sounded like exasperation, and both elves laughed. The colt wandered a few steps on his long legs, and then turned to his mother to suckle from her. Tuilinn nudged him to the right place, before pinning her ears back at Legolas and Thranduil again.

Legolas chuckled, and stepped back from the door. "I believe that she has had enough of my presence," he said. "And I have things I must get done before the morning. I will leave them both alone."

Thranduil also stepped back with a nod. "What will you name him?" he asked as they began to walk from the stables. A sudden gust of wind rattled against the window they were passing. Looking out, their sharp elven eyes could see the snow that was beginning to pile up on the ground. The winter was nearly over, but it seemed it would not let go without one more icy touch.

Legolas thought for a moment, before smiling softly. " _Hrivo_ ," he said. It seemed apt, considering the weather outside, and the colour that Legolas was sure the colt would become.

"Of winter," Thranduil mused. "It fits well." He briefly clasped Legolas' shoulder as they walked out of the stables together. Behind them, the lamps bathed the mother and her foal as he stood on uneasy legs for the first time.

0-o-0-o-0

Legolas laughed as he tried to walk out of the great doors of the stables, towards some of their pastures. "Easy, little one," he said. "Your mother is right there."

In front of him a groom led Tuilinn out through the doors, the mare's ears pricking at the sight of spring grass. She halted, seemingly waiting for her foal to catch up, and Legolas tried to quicken his pace before she became impatient. He tugged lightly on the spare cloak that was wrapped loosely around the colt's neck, acting as a gentle form of steering.

As soon as Hrivo saw the open spaces ahead of him, he needed no encouragement. At a few months old, he had stayed inside during the last throes of winter, but was now old enough, and the weather fine enough, to be turned out into one of their small meadows to grow. Legolas slipped the cloak from around his neck, and as the groom released the halter holding Tuilinn, Hrivo darted forwards, feeling for the first time the grass underneath his feet.

It seemed to fascinate him. He stepped lightly, and each time a blade touched his leg he jumped in surprise. Tuilinn watched him for a few moments and then briefly nudged him, pushing his hindquarters with her muzzle.

That was all that was needed to send Hrivo off, and he leapt into the air, kicking out with his back legs before not quite managing to land, and falling to a heap on the ground. Undeterred he clambered back up and tried again, this time prancing forwards afterwards. His tiny hooves lifted high into the air with each step as the joy of being outside unfolded.

The groom bowed slightly to Legolas. "We will keep an eye on them, my Lord," he said. "But it would be best to let them be for a while now. Once he is old enough, we will start training the colt with a soft halter, and get him used to touch."

Legolas nodded, coming to lean against the fence. "Let me know when you do," he said. "I would like to do as much as my duties allow." He laughed softly as Hrivo mouthed at the grass, trying to imitate Tuilinn, who had begun to graze. After a few moments Hrivo gave up on the grass, and instead lay down, stretching out on one side in the spring sun.

Legolas stayed there for a little while, watching Hrivo and Tuilinn. It was a nice day, and all too easy, watching the little foal, to forget what was beyond their borders. It was all too easy to imagine that their entire realm was like this, warm and alive.

There came soft footsteps from behind him, but Legolas recognised them and did not turn as Belhadron came to lean against the fence next to him. The sunlight glinted off his dark hair as he tucked it back behind one ear.

"So you will train him," he said, a grin flitting across his face as Hrivo scrambled to his feet once more.

Legolas nodded. "He'll be a good horse," he said. "Spirited, but then the spirited ones always do seem to have the stronger will, when it is required of them."

Belhadron shrugged slightly. "He may become flighty," he cautioned. "Spirited can go either way,  _mellon-nin_. I still haven't forgotten that mare that dumped me on the ground the first time she caught the scent of spiders."

Legolas laughed at the memory. He had forgotten that mare, who had long since died. Belhadron had handed her off to one of the home guard fairly quickly after that. He had never been too fond of horses anyway.

"He will be handsome enough," said Legolas. "A good colour. We don't see many greys anymore."

"You do realise that keeping him clean will be impossible?" asked Belhadron with a grin. "But yes, he will be handsome. A horse fit for a King, or a Prince, at least."

Legolas chuckled, and shoved at Belhadron's shoulder with his own. "You'll see," he said. "After all, you are going to help. It's quiet now, and it looks like it will remain that way for a while. You need to be kept busy, or knives end up embedded in the walls of my room."

Belhadron rolled his eyes and protested, but it was only on principle. The spring sun warmed their faces as it fell from the morning sky above, and they soon fell into silence. From the paddock Hrivo looked over at them, his gangly legs only staying still for a moment before he dashed off across the green grass once more.

0-o-0-o-0

Three years passed swiftly for an elf. It was well into the Watchful Peace, so more of their time was spent in leisure, feasting and singing and dancing. Though there were still patrols, and still some skirmishes along their southern borders, they were lessening now. The spiders were still there, the darkness and shadow was still there, but now the light was easier to see through the canopies. Many hearts were gladdened by the sight.

Legolas turned to Belhadron, out in one of the paddocks next to the stronghold. "Ready?" he asked, and one hand tightened on the mane that was wrapped around his hand.

Hrivo stood beside him, his ears flicking back and forth nervously. He had grown, his shoulder standing at Legolas' own shoulder now, and his coat had lightened to the grey of clouds in the moments before snow. A thick pad had been settled over his back and Legolas slipped his hand underneath the leather bands holding it on, testing it. Belhadron stood at his head, holding onto the reins of a halter.

Hrivo snorted uneasily, and Belhadron absent-mindedly rubbed one hand down his nose. "I think we're as calm as we will get," he said, referring to the young horse between them. "I told you he could be flighty."

Legolas chuckled. "I know," he said. "But too much spirit is better than no spirit. Are you actually ready?"

Belhadron nodded, and adjusted his grip on the leather reins so they weren't wrapped around his hand. If Hrivo bolted, it meant that he wouldn't break his fingers. He stepped to where Legolas was standing at Hrivo's shoulder and nodded. Legolas bent his leg at the knee, and then Belhadron, one hand still on the reins, boosted Legolas up onto Hrivo's back.

Legolas felt the young horse tense up underneath him, and carefully lowered himself so he was lying across the blanket on Hrivo's back. Belhadron kept hold of Legolas as Hrivo took a step forwards uncertainly, his ears flicking back as Legolas murmured softly to him.

After a few more seconds Legolas gently jumped down to the ground. Hrivo snorted in surprise and shied sideways, and if Belhadron hadn't been standing there Legolas would have tripped. As it was he stumbled before Belhadron righted him, chuckling slightly.

"Again?" asked Belhadron, and Legolas nodded. He lay across Hrivo's back once more, feeling the developing muscle underneath him, the colt that was still growing shifting underneath him. After a few seconds Hrivo relaxed and Belhadron let go of Legolas, moving to the colt's head and rubbing down his nose.

The next time, Legolas sprung up and vaulted easily onto Hrivo, settling on his back. Hrivo flicked his ears, but settled quickly. With a click of his tongue Belhadron moved Hrivo forwards a few steps, and then handed Legolas the reins.

Legolas chuckled as he touched Hrivo with his heels and the young colt lurched forwards in surprise. Belhadron put one hand on the reins, just in case, and then Hrivo began to walk slowly around the paddock. His steps were unsure, as if the strange weight on his back might suddenly change or vanish, and Legolas laughed at the colt.

"Do not drop me!" he exclaimed. "We have far to go, you and I, and throwing me on the floor will not be a good start."

0-o-0-o-0

The wind set the deep green leaves fluttering, the boughs above their heads dancing to the breeze ghosting through them. They paid little attention to it, though, as the trees flashed past them, faster and faster, until they were mere blurs of brown and green.

Legolas let out a laugh of pure joy, and Hrivo shied sideways at the sound, feet skimming over the packed earth of the track beneath them. He got too close to the undergrowth on one side and a leaf, of all things, brushed his side. With a jump of surprise he shot sideways one more, and one of Legolas' hands went to his mane to keep his balance.

The track widened, and Belhadron came up beside Legolas. "Watch it," he called out, reaching out with one hand as a caution as he used his own horse to slow Hrivo a little. Hrivo seemed to eye the other horse disdainfully, before quickening his pace and pulling ahead a little, his ears flicking back in warning.

Legolas tugged gently on the leather reins in his hands. It had been only a few months since the spring morning Legolas had first ridden Hrivo, and he had taken to riding him out in the forest when he had the time, allowing him to become used to the weight on his back and the commands Legolas asked of him. Hrivo seemed to enjoy moments like these, their gallops through the forest, though he still had much of a spirit and could decide he had had enough at a moment's notice.

Legolas gently put more pressure on the reins again, asking him to slow. Hrivo responded by leaning his weight into the bridle and tugging forwards. Belhadron grinned wryly, pushing his own horse into Hrivo's shoulders to cut him off a little. "A little too enthusiastic," he called out over the sound of the wind rushing past them.

The next moment Hrivo balked sideways at something he had only seen, and skidded to an abrupt halt. At the speeds they were travelling, Legolas didn't have much of a chance, especially when Hrivo dipped one shoulder and jerked sideways. He tumbled over Hrivo's neck, hitting the ground heavily on one shoulder.

Belhadron flung himself off his horse before he had even stopped, trusting him to remain where he was. Hrivo had already come to a confused halt, and was being held in place by the other horse. Belhadron barely paid attention, running to where Legolas was sprawled on the ground.

"Are you hurt?" he asked as he knelt down next to him. Legolas rolled over onto his back, but there was a grin on his face and he was laughing in short gasps. Belhadron sighed in relief, and sat back.

"I would call that enthusiastic," Legolas said between breaths. He chuckled and sat up. "I'm fine. I may be bruised tomorrow, but as long as  _Adar_  does not see, then I will be fine."

Belhadron stood up, pulling Legolas with him. "That accursed horse," he said with a wry grin. "He just dropped you straight on the ground. You have to admit that was unfair of him."

"I know, he's flighty," replied Legolas, wincing as he rolled out his shoulders. "But he is still young and a little unbalanced. He will grow up."

"I hope so," said Belhadron, whistling for both of their horses. "I really don't want to be picking you up off the floor all the time." He held out a hand, and caught Hrivo's reins as he and his own horse approached. Hrivo seemed apologetic, almost subdued. Belhadron supposed that it was a start.

"As if I have not done the same for you," said Legolas, swinging himself up onto Hrivo with a slight wince. Belhadron shook his head, but vaulted up onto his horse. With a gentle tug to the leather reins, Legolas turned Hrivo back onto the path, and with a tap of his heels the grey bunched his muscles beneath him and surged off down the path. The forest quickly swallowed up the sound of his hooves on the earth track. Belhadron held back a sigh and rolled his eyes before following him once again.

0-o-0-o-0

"This is also a terrible idea."

"If it was such a terrible idea, you wouldn't be here."

"Maybe I feel like I need to be near in case you fall off again."

"He needs to learn, Belhadron, and I will fall off a few times at least before he is ready to be ridden into a battle." Legolas turned Hrivo around, and halted them with a light touch to his neck.

They were on one of the sheltered fields to the north of the stronghold, one used mostly for training by the older warriors. For now, it was empty, save for Legolas and Belhadron and their respective horses. Belhadron's mare was grazing quietly at the edge of the clearing, but Hrivo stood in the middle, his ears flicking uneasily.

It had been a year, or a little more, since Hrivo had first borne Legolas' weight, and they were beginning to train him in the art of warfare. It sometimes seemed like a cruel thing to do to a horse, to teach them to run towards the bright steel and the screams, but it was necessary, whilst the shadow still clung to their realm. Though it was the Watchful Peace, that name was maybe not as true for Mirkwood as it was for other realms.

Hrivo had already spent a few weeks with Legolas, and other elves when Legolas was not around, beginning to get him used to swords and other weapons. Though he had grown, his coat lighter still, Hrivo had not lost his slightly nervous spirit. Even now, though he had spent the past weeks moving around swords at a gradually faster pace, the swords beginning to move once he was comfortable, he still looked a little uneasy.

Legolas turned Hrivo away and nodded at Belhadron, pushing the horse into a slow canter. Belhadron unsheathed his sword as Legolas cantered past, and was pleased to note that he barely flinched at the movement, the bright steel glinting in the sunlight. A few more circles, Legolas pushing Hrivo at a faster pace as Belhadron went through sword drills that were ingrained into him by now, and Hrivo was barely looking at the elf.

"Good enough?" asked Belhadron, barely out of breath as Legolas pulled Hrivo up to a halt and he sheathed his sword.

Legolas laughed. "Good enough." He slid from Hrivo's back and held out a hand. Belhadron passed him the leather halter that had been at his feet, and then the long white knife he had kept at his belt.

"Are you really sure about this?" he asked once more. "I still think it is a terrible idea to do this so soon."

Legolas rolled his eyes, and let Hrivo have a look at his knife as he slipped the halter on. "He is a smart horse," he said. "In a few weeks he is already used to your drills. He will learn quickly enough."

Belhadron shrugged. "As long as I am not the one getting kicked." He swung his sword lazily, watching Hrivo out of one corner of his eye. Legolas, with an answering grin, brought his long knife up and tapped it against Belhadron's sword.

Hrivo's ears twitched, but such sounds he was already becoming a little used to. Legolas had put him in one of the paddocks next to the novice training fields for a few days, and so Hrivo was fairly accustomed to the sound of steel. Legolas gently rubbed his nose with the hand that had a loose hold on the rope.

Soon enough Belhadron and Legolas were sparring gently with each other, and Legolas looped the rope holding Hrivo around the horse's neck. He seemed to take to it easily enough, even though a few clashes that were louder than normal had him jumping back in surprise.

Legolas chuckled, and they paused for a moment. Belhadron's mare looked up briefly. She looked unimpressed, and returned to grazing. Hrivo nudged Legolas, who put out a hand and absently rubbed his muzzle. When nothing more was coming, he huffed and began to graze.

They spent most of the day in the clearing with the horses, and after a while of training with Hrivo, Legolas and Belhadron began to spar in earnest. Hrivo and Belhadron's mare grazed at one edge of the clearing whilst the two elves went back and forth, their blades flashing as they spun and danced together.

Belhadron ducked under Legolas' guard and caught him by, essentially, knocking him over with his own body. They both ended up on the floor, their weapons to one side, laughing. Hrivo wandered over to see what the noise was, and Belhadron laughed even more when Hrivo sniffed at Legolas, pushed at his face with his muzzle, and then turned away, seemingly bored.

"He's not too bad," Belhadron said, when he got his breath back. Legolas chuckled, and looked over to where Hrivo was grazing, his ears occasionally flickering over to them.

"I know," he said with a grin. "He's not too bad at all."

0-o-0-o-0

"Easy," murmured Legolas as one hand wrapped in Hrivo's mane. "You're alright."

Hrivo shifted beneath him, the muscles along his back tensing slightly, and Legolas chuckled. "There is nothing there," he said softly. "There is nothing you should be afraid of."

He continued to murmur softly until Hrivo relaxed, and his ears flicked back to listen to the words. Legolas smiled, and nudged him forwards so that he was at the head of the column of elves.

There was the sound of hooves, muted on the forest floor, and Legolas turned to see Belhadron walk his horse up beside him. "Are we ready?" he asked, his eye falling back over the assembled company behind them.

Belhadron nodded. "We are ready," he said, a wry smile coming across his face. "Is he?"

Legolas raised one eyebrow. "There is a first time for everything," he said. "And he may be young, but he is smart, and has been out on patrol before."

"This is the first time he could be going somewhere dangerous," pointed out Belhadron. "He is still spirited and flighty. He threw you only a few weeks ago. Is he ready?"

"If I ask him to be, then he will," replied Legolas, scratching Hrivo's neck and shifting the quiver on his back to a more comfortable position. "I trust him enough for this."

Belhadron rolled his eyes. "Of course you do," he said, but there was no ire to his voice. "But if he throws you because of a strangely shaped leaf again, I'm not picking you up."

Legolas laughed, and with the slightest of movements asked Hrivo to walk off into the forest. "Of course you will," he said over his shoulder. "But that will not happen." His attention turned back to Hrivo, and his smile grew softer as he looked at his horse.

"I trust you enough for this," he repeated softly. "And isn't that a strange thing?"

0-o-0-o-0

Legolas leant heavily on the stable door, and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. The torch next to him flickered in a draught that had wormed its way through the closed doors, and he only just managed not to jump as the orange light suddenly disappeared into shadows for a moment.

Inside the stables, it was warm and dry, and it was so easy to forget what was outside. They were quiet, but it was not a content silence. There were gaps in the quiet evening, gaps where elves had once been there to fill them.

The horses themselves were not oblivious to the change in the air, and a few of the uneasier horses were wary, to someone who knew them well. Hrivo was standing at the back of his stable, in the deep straw. There was a clatter from nearby, as if someone had thrown something at a wall, and Hrivo jumped, his ears flicking uneasily.

Legolas held out one hand, and then let it drop when Hrivo did not much more than look over at him. He sighed heavily, and then reached down and picked something up from the floor.

He held out his hand once again, and this time whistled softly to Hrivo. The grey horse flicked his ears at him, and then slowly turned his head. Legolas whistled again.

All horses in Mirkwood were trained to come to a whistle. It was useful in many situations, and had saved lives before. Hrivo had been taught, of course, but it had been a fairly long time since Legolas had needed to use the whistle. There was no harm in refreshing his horse's memory, and given what had happened today, it only seemed appropriate to practice.

He whistled again, and then rustled the feed that was in his hand, a handful of sweet oats he had pocketed on the way in. Hrivo pricked his ears upon hearing the noise, and then picked his way over to Legolas. He sniffed Legolas' hand once, before eagerly devouring the oats. The barest hint of a smile turned up the corners of Legolas' lips.

Hrivo waited for more oats for a while, and then, growing uninterested, turned back to the far side of his stable again. For some reason, it seemed to be his favourite place to stand. Legolas watched him for a while. For some of the time he was assessing with a calculated eye, working out what he needed to do to improve Hrivo's muscle across his back and hindquarters, but for most of the time he merely watched.

It was simple to lose track of the time. Eventually, as the sky darkened further and a few more torches were lit, he slipped inside the stable, a soft brush in his hand. It was easy enough to let the grief and anger slip out of his mind in the long strokes of the brush against a silk coat, the warm comfort of an animal that asks for nothing except for kindness, and oats now and again. Hrivo turned and occasionally butted Legolas' arm if he stayed on one spot for too long, but other than that seemed mostly content.

After some time Hrivo became impatient with it, and Legolas dropped the brush over the edge of the door. He sat down, leaning back against the wall and shut his eyes, running his hand over his face.

He opened his eyes again to see Hrivo's muzzle in his face, and huffed a soft laugh. Hrivo jumped in surprise, but once he had sniffed Legolas, seemingly ensuring that nothing was wrong, he relaxed and turned away to the back of his stable once more.

The soft sound of footsteps jerked Legolas from his reverie, and he looked up to see Thranduil look over the stable door. He smiled softly.

"I was wondering where you had gone," Thranduil murmured as Legolas pulled himself to his feet. "It has been a while since the reports were given."

Legolas inclined his head, reaching out and absently rubbing Hrivo's nose. The grey pulled his head away with a disdainful look, and Thranduil chuckled softly.

"I am fine," replied Legolas, though he didn't move any closer to the stable door. "I just needed some time to clear my head."

"I think everyone did," said Thranduil. "Where is Belhadron?"

"In the kennels, last I saw him," Legolas said, his gaze flicking to one of the large doors down the end of the hall. "He didn't want to go too far, but he has always preferred dogs to horses."

Thranduil's eyes flickered over Hrivo. "He has muscled out well over the past year or so," he said. "Maybe needs some more power in his hindquarters, but that will come with time and training."

"I know," replied Legolas, pulling gently on one of Hrivo's ears. "He's smart, smarter than I thought he would be. It has its disadvantages, but he is sharp, and that is mostly a good quality to have."

"Especially given what happened today," remarked Thranduil, and there was a little bit of pain behind the usual mask he wore. He smiled sadly. "I'm sure there will be many discussions to come of the paths we are now walking on. I originally came to ensure you knew that all of the captains have been recalled, and you are meeting them at dawn tomorrow to brief them. But it can wait until dawn."

Legolas nodded in understanding, and absently ran his hand through Hrivo's mane once more. "We will be ready," he said, and his voice was determined, if a little heavy with grief.

Thranduil nodded. "Make sure you get some rest," he said. Legolas nodded, and then chuckled as Hrivo tried to stick his nose into one of his pockets once more. He swatted affectionately at the horse, catching his muzzle and rubbing it before Hrivo pulled it out of his grasp with an indignant snort.

"You have a good horse there,  _ion_ ," Thranduil said as he turned away. "Take care of him, and he will keep taking care of you." His hand slipped off the door of the stable, and his light footsteps echoed after him as he left.

Legolas shook his head slightly, and then turned back to Hrivo. "Let's try this again," he murmured. He moved to the other edge of the large stable, waiting there until Hrivo grew bored and let his head hang once more. Legolas reached into his pocket, and then pursed his lips and whistled.

There was the soft tap of shoes on the stone floor as Hrivo wandered over to Legolas, and tried to stick his muzzle into Legolas' pocket. Legolas chuckled, and caught Hivro's head with one hand. He reached up, his fingers tangling in the forelock that fell over Hrivo's forehead, and his soft smile faded as the horse pushed his nose towards him.

Legolas sighed heavily, and then leant against Hrivo, a choked sob forcing its way out of his throat. His fingers wound in the forelock, but Hrivo merely shifted closer and gently nudged him until Legolas, eyes tightly shut, slung one arm around his neck and pressed his face into his soft hair. Hrivo hooked his head over Legolas' shoulder, and for a brief while, the anger and grief fell away amidst the comfort his horse could offer.

0-o-0-o-0

The forest was still around them, the type of stillness that came with the heaviness of the middle of summer, the heat and weight of full green boughs above their heads.

Legolas straightened, and one hand went slowly to the quiver on his back. His fingers twitched around the bow in his other hand, tightening their grip into the familiar feel of the curved wood beneath his fingers. Beneath him, Hrivo shifted uneasily.

Legolas pulled one arrow from his quiver and brought it down slowly. His hands knew instinctively what to do, and with a nudge from his heels Hrivo shifted sideways onto a better line of sight. Legolas raised the bow, slowly as Hrivo tensed underneath him. He glanced at his horse's ears, pricked forwards in anticipation, and with a soft smile curving his lips, Legolas murmured a few words to him.

The arrow tip focused unwaveringly, and Hrivo settled as Legolas fell into his easy pattern of breathing, the world focusing until it contained only him, his horse, and the tip of that arrow. Hrivo's ears flickered back at him. Legolas breathed out, and released the arrow.

The string sang as it was released, and Hrivo jumped slightly at the sound. Legolas laughed, looking forwards to where the arrow had buried itself in the target ahead of them. He leant forwards and patted Hrivo's neck thoughtfully.

"You are better than you were," he murmured with a smile to his horse. Hrivo snorted, as if indignant. He was fully grown now, a full horse of the Woodland Realm, but his spirit had not diminished over the years and the training. He turned to nose at the toe of Legolas' boot, and Legolas reached forwards, catching one ear and tugging on it playfully. As if in retaliation, Hrivo grabbed Legolas' boot with his lips, before his attention turned back to the woods of their home around them.

"Come," Legolas said with a smile, nudging Hrivo's flank and turning him further into the woods. "You and I still have much to do together." Hrivo pricked his ears and then, at Legolas' ask, moved off easily into a canter. His grey coat rippled in the dappled sunlight as he wove between the trees, until he and Legolas were gone from sight and the forest was still once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part to this will be published in a week today. Comments are much, much appreciated.


	4. And Complete Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part of the story continued last chapter, following Legolas and his horse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At one point in this story, a horse dies. It is not graphic, but is there, and at the same time, an elf is fairly badly inured. If you want to skip forwards or read this chapter carefully, then the separation bit before it will be bolded.
> 
> EDIT: It was pointed out to me that I actually spelt Hrivo's name wrong the entire way through this, so that has now been changed. It was Hivro, but is actually meant to be Hrivo. The pronunciation mentioned last chapter still stands.

The sound of thundering hooves filled the morning air, cutting across the damp patter of rain and the occasional murmur of the last of the autumn winds. In the clearing the grass was glistening in the weak sun breaking in places through the thick grey cloud.

Legolas shifted his body and Hrivo turned, curving around the pole that had been set at one end of the clearing. For a brief moment his hooves slipped in the wet grass, but he plunged forwards and straightened up, charging forwards in the other direction. Legolas leant down to one side and, with the long white knife in his hand, shattered one of the clay balls that had been set up in a line down the clearing.

Hrivo snorted and jumped sideways, but Legolas moved with him. He sat back, and with a touch to Hrivo's neck pulled him up to a walk.

Another elf, sitting on a small red charger, trotted over. "It's not a bad idea, that they've had," she said. "But I don't like using the clay balls."

Legolas nodded in agreement, and ran one hand down Hrivo's neck. "There's a chance of injury when they shatter," he said. "We can switch them out to apples or something, if we really need to. But how useful will it actually be for training?"

The elf shrugged. "We can set some of the novices to it," she replied. They were testing a new training technique that one of the horse masters had come up with, after a particularly bad patrol where they had lost three horses and two elves. The elf's red charger made to sniff Hrivo, and Legolas grinned as he pulled Hrivo's head away.

"You know that's a bad idea," he told his horse. "You think you will like them, and it always ends with bared teeth." He looked over at the other elf. "Anything else that needs trialling?"

"I don't think so, my Lord," said the other elf. "We can hand this over to the trainers. I'll see them about it now."

Legolas nodded, and as the rain started up once more they headed back inside, Hrivo swishing his tail to catch both of the elves with water droplets. Legolas laughed, and then pushed Hrivo forwards as the other elf tried to get revenge.

The next day, Legolas was leant against the fence to Hrivo's paddock, watching the training technique in practice. A few of the novices had already fallen off, and were now splattered in mud, grass stains over clothes. Their instructor was, at the moment, berating them for not paying close enough attention, and his voice was loud enough to carry over to where Legolas was watching, and hoping he wouldn't get called over.

He was in luck. The instructor sent the novices off once more on their horses, and Legolas chuckled as one horse decided he would rather not, and rooted himself to the spot. The volume of the instructor's voice rose once more.

There was a soft snort from behind him, and then Legolas was pushed forwards as Hrivo decided to itch his head on Legolas' shoulder. Legolas chuckled, pushing Hrivo's nose away, but his horse was adamant. Soon Legolas' tunic was covered in fine white hairs.

"You are a menace," he said, tugging at one of Hrivo's ears. Hrivo's expression turned grumpy, and he pulled his head away. Legolas, by now very used to his horse's attitude, merely smiled, and turned back to watch in time to see yet another novice go too fast and fall off into the mud.

Legolas kept himself from laughing, but it was a close thing. The elf got up, trying to brush the mud off of themselves, and Legolas did grimace at that. After all, he had been there before many times over the years, and it had become somewhat commonplace with Hrivo.

The instructor was now telling the novices something, and it seemed important, because he wasn't shouting it. Legolas listened in.

"Trust in your horse," the instructor was saying. "What we are doing here goes against every one of your instincts. You have to overcome them, and learn that your horse will carry you through, if you let it."

Hrivo snorted at Legolas' shoulder, as if in agreement. Legolas nodded slightly. The instructor had told him something similar, centuries ago. Hrivo nudged his shoulder, and Legolas chuckled.

"He's right," he murmured, catching Hrivo's muzzle in one hand. Hrivo promptly tried to lick it, and Legolas grinned. "But you are still a menace."

0-o-0-o-0

Hrivo snorted nervously, and with the hand that wasn't pressing a wadded up cloak to his side, Legolas reached out and scratched his nose reassuringly. The grey horse pushed his muzzle into Legolas' hand, nostrils flaring as he picked up the copper tang of blood that was steadily becoming a little more familiar as the state of the woods deteriorated.

Legolas huffed a laugh, and carefully tried to shift into a more comfortable position without actually moving. "Do not look so worried," he muttered to Hrivo. "It is only a scratch."

"It is a little more than a scratch," came a voice from nearby, and then Belhadron crouched down next to Legolas. He frowned, checking the gash at Legolas' side and the tender bruise beginning to form down one side of his head. "That's going to be impressive tomorrow," he said.

Legolas raised his eyebrows instead of nodding, aware of the dull throbbing at the base of his skull from where he had been knocked into the ground that could easily shift into more. Belhadron shook his head.

"Are you feeling dizzy?"

"A little," murmured Legolas, grimacing as he shifted and the world threatened to spin around him. He held his breath and stayed still, and thankfully the ground returned to where it was meant to be.

"Going to be sick?"

Legolas shook his head ever so slightly. "Don't think so. I cannot promise anything, though."

Belhadron chuckled. "It wouldn't be the first time," he said. He peeled back the cloak at Legolas' side. "The bleeding's nearly stopped," he announced. "But I should get you back to the stronghold sooner rather than later."

"I can't ride on my own," Legolas pointed out with a slight grin. He moved his hand away from his side as Belhadron began to wrap up the wound with a quick field dressing, and reached up to push some of the hair away from his face. The movement sent a wave of dizziness through him suddenly, and he felt himself listing to one side.

Belhadron swiftly caught him. "Liar," he said with a grin. "You are more than a little dizzy. Stay still. I'm nearly done, and then we'll get back."

Legolas didn't trust his body if he nodded, but Belhadron understood him even with the slightest movement, and it hadn't really been up for discussion anyway. He finished tying off the makeshift bandage, and then grasped Legolas' arms. "Up," he instructed, and he tugged the blond elf to his feet.

The world swayed sickeningly around Legolas and he pitched forwards, wincing with clenched teeth at the pull on the cut. Belhadron caught him around the waist and propped him up until he got his breath back. "Still not going to be sick?" he asked.

Legolas chuckled weakly. "Again, I'm not promising anything," he muttered. "Let's just get back."

Hrivo had not gone far, and had been watching their movements with what could be seen as worry. He sniffed at Belhadron as they approached, blowing hot air in the elf's face. Belhadron chuckled. "He's going to be fine, you insufferable animal," he said.

Legolas grinned weakly, and then Belhadron boosted him up onto Hrivo's back. The blond elf swayed, his face paling as Belhadron quickly vaulted up behind him. Hrivo's ears flicked back to them as Belhadron adjusted his seat, one arm coming to circle around Legolas and hold him in place.

Hrivo shifted beneath them, and he seemed uneasy. "I suppose this would be a good time to tell you," murmured Legolas, closing his eyes and resting his head against Belhadron's shoulder. "Hrivo's never carried two people at once before."

Belhadron groaned under his breath. "Of course," he said. "My luck is usually this bad."

Legolas chuckled slightly, and Belhadron nudged Hrivo forwards with his heels, beginning to head back towards the stronghold. "He's a smart horse," muttered Legolas. "He'll work it out soon enough."

"I hope so," said Belhadron with a grimace as he put his leg on and asked Hrivo to move off. They weren't in too much of a rush, for Legolas' injuries were not too bad, but he would prefer to be home sooner rather than later.

"Sometimes you just have to have blind faith," murmured Legolas. Most of the time it was probably not a good idea to trust merely on instinct, because they knew better than most how valuable it was to be prepared and know what they were walking into. But sometimes it ended up that they did not have an option, and then such a blind trust had to be enough.

For the first few minutes Belhadron kept one hand on Hrivo's mane, but he seemed to take to it easily enough. Soon they were cantering quickly through the forest, the cold branches skimming over their heads. Belhadron's arm was wrapped tightly around Legolas' waist, keeping pressure on the cut, and once he trusted Hrivo enough to keep going steadily home, he pulled his cloak so that the edges lay over Legolas as well.

For Legolas, the time passed quickly in a blur of pounding hooves and the occasional murmured word from behind him. In what seemed like a few moments, Hrivo was clattering over the bridge, one of the more secretive entrances to the stronghold that was fairly close to the healer's wards and the stables. Guards were instantly at Hrivo's side, who stood with his head down, breathing hard. Foam flecked his muzzle and shoulders, and his coat was damp with sweat.

Belhadron slid off his back, and propped Legolas up as the blond elf dismounted and swayed slightly. He reached over and patted Hrivo's neck, rubbing his hand along the dappled fur as he tightened his grip on Legolas to keep him upright.

"My thanks," he murmured with a soft smile. Legolas chuckled slightly, and then they were swallowed in the flurry of activity. Belhadron kept Legolas propped up as they staggered towards the entrance, Legolas beginning to lean more and more heavily on him.

Legolas glanced back over his shoulder as they passed through the doors. Hrivo was standing still in the courtyard between the doors and the bridge, his head down. One of the elves there was talking softly to him as they slipped on a halter. There were spatters of blood down his shoulder, and he looked weary, but he still held himself with pride. He looked up and over at Legolas, his ears pricking forwards. Legolas held his gaze for a moment, before he stepped between the doors and his horse vanished from sight.

Outside, Hrivo watched the space where his rider had been for a moment more, before his attention turned to the groom coming over. He lowered his head, sniffing at his pockets, and then allowed himself to be led away.

It was only the next day that Legolas, a bandage under his shirt and a large bruise down one side of his face, made his way down to the paddock where Hrivo was grazing. He whistled, the sound sharp against the still air of winter, and Hrivo wandered over.

He didn't say much at all, only murmur a greeting to his horse as he fed him a handful of sweet oats that he had pocketed on his way down, but he was there for a fair while, sometimes rubbing one hand down Hrivo's face, sometimes merely staying still and watching.

From the corner of the stables, just inside the doors, Thranduil watched Legolas and his horse. He had had his doubts about how well Hrivo would do, given his spirit, but it had served Legolas well over the years. Legolas was by now just as much Hrivo's rider as Hrivo was Legolas' horse.

Thranduil smiled as Legolas briefly rested his head on Hrivo's own. Sometimes, blind trust turned out to be all that was needed.

0-o-0-o-0

Legolas leant his head against the side of the stable wall, and breathed out heavily. "What do you think?" he asked.

The elf crouched down to one side of Hrivo ran his hand down the horses' leg one more time. Hrivo flinched, and his ears flicked back as he shifted uneasily. "It is hard to tell, my Lord," he said. "In the worst scenario, he has damaged the tendon." Legolas grimaced at that, and the elf shook his head.

"It is unlikely," he said quickly. "It is much more likely that the inflammation is due to some sort of impact, or wrenching of the muscle. If it were the tendon, he would move noticeably different, and there would be less swelling." Legolas nodded, and ran a hand over his face. Hrivo shifted his head to look at some noise elsewhere, whacking Legolas on the way. The blond elf chuckled slightly, and briefly caught Hrivo's muzzle with one hand.

"I do think he will come right in a few days, my Lord," said the elf, standing from his position and stretching slightly. "I will keep a watchful eye on him, of course. He obviously cannot be exercised, or taken out of this stable much at all. I will give the grooms something to put in his feed to ease any pain, and wrapping the leg in bandages soaked with water would be a good idea."

Legolas nodded. "I will see to that," he said.

"I have to tell you, my Lord, that it may turn out to be more serious than hoped," said the elf. "If that is the case, then we will see what we can do with what we have. But it may come to it. I cannot be sure."

Legolas nodded. "I know," he said. "I was expecting you to say something akin to that. Nevertheless, thank you for all you have done."

The elf inclined his head. "It is my job, my Lord," he replied. "But I would do it nonetheless. All of us are rather fond of Hrivo." The horse in question butted the elf's pockets for food, and he chuckled. "He is a character, my Lord, and a good horse."

Legolas smiled, though it was tinged with a quiet worry. "I know," he said. "Don't hesitate to come to me if you need anything."

"Of course, my Lord." The elf bowed, before leaving. The stable door swung shut behind him.

Legolas let out a sigh, and rubbed one hand down Hrivo's face. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

Hrivo looked interested in him for a moment, and then, when it was apparent that there was no food coming immediately, turned his head away. Legolas chuckled slightly, but it was short lived.

Time passed more slowly than usual. The torches were guttering in their brackets when Belhadron walked down through the stables to Hrivo's stall. He leaned over the door.

"I should have known you would be here," he said softly. He threw back the latch and slipped inside. Legolas looked up from where he was sitting, his back against one of the walls. A bucket of cold water, nearly empty, was by his side, along with a few scrolls of parchment, a quill and ink.

Legolas smiled tightly at the sight of his friend. "His leg needs cooling," he said. "I might as well do it." He dipped one hand in the bucket, shifting the bandages around. Hrivo looked up from the back of the stable where he was eating hay. For a moment he watched Belhadron, before the food became more interesting once more and he turned back to it.

"It's not your fault."

Legolas chuckled slightly, but it was short lived. "Am I that obvious?" he asked.

"To me, yes, you are," replied Belhadron, leaning back against the stable door. "You know accidents happen. There is no point feeling guilty over this."

"I pushed him too hard," replied Legolas, not even bothering to pretend he was paying attention to the parchment in his hand anymore. "I should have known it was too fast."

Belhadron shrugged. "And if you hadn't, you might not have got back here in time. It was a small sacrifice for that company's safety, especially if he comes right soon enough."

Legolas grimaced. "I know," he said, with a shake of his head. "And I would do it again in a second. But I cannot help thinking we ask too much of them, sometimes. What do we give them in return for carrying us into battle, for risking their lives at our commands?"

Belhadron whistled softly. "You really do like this horse," he said with a soft grin. "I haven't seen you like this for a while now." Legolas glared half-heartedly at him, and Belhadron's smile faded somewhat.

"We may ask too much, sometimes," he said in reply. "It may be cruel, to take such an animal and teach them that the sound of steel and screams is not something they should run from, but towards. I've thought it before, a few times. I think a lot of us have. But in the end, there is nothing we can, or will, do. It is a sacrifice all of us are entirely willing to make, and you know that. Besides, I do not think Hrivo, or many of the others, would bear us unless they were willing."

He had seen, they both had, the devotion that horses ended up having for their riders. He had seen horses stand over elves that had fallen, waiting stubbornly for someone to help. He had seen ones continue bearing their riders to safety, even though it broke them. He had seen horses that had known when their rider had died, and were never quite the same afterwards.

Legolas smiled softly. "I know," he muttered. "I do."

Belhadron shook his head. "You always did get too attached," he said, as if it were the root of all problems. In some ways, it was.

They did not age. They did not die, not unless they were slain in battle or chose to let go in grief. And the many things around them grew old and fell into memory, until they fell even from that. The life of a horse was mere seconds compared to the years they had already lived. Such an accident was a good reminder of this.

At that moment, Hrivo decided to investigate the parchment on the floor, despite the fact that he had already seen it. He snorted at one scroll, and then jumped back as it blew away from him. Legolas chuckled, and then gently rubbed one hand down Hrivo's face, ignoring the white hairs that ended up adorning his sleeve.

"It is worth it," he said, and his voice was suddenly determined. He looked up at Belhadron from where he was sat. "Whatever price I may end up paying for my trust in him, it will be worth it."

**0-o-0-o-0**

He was moving quickly, the ground flashing past underneath his mare's hooves. She was small, the better to thread through the thick woods that made up their realm, and Belhadron briefly let his mind wander and enjoy the feeling of being so free.

It was only for a moment, though, and then his thoughts turned back to the track ahead. He was scouting, pushing ahead of Legolas' party behind him. Though he was not expecting any trouble, he had learnt long ago that trouble may happen nonetheless. The track narrowed, and Belhadron checked his mare as her hooves slipped slightly underneath her.

He didn't notice the encroaching darkness, not until the mare balked, her ears flicking back against her head as she sensed what was still beyond his sight. Belhadron slowed down even more, and one hand went to the sword at his hip. There was no obvious danger, not that he could see. No tracks or the telltale wisps of web that indicated a spider's nest, only a pervasive feeling of darkness. It was perhaps nothing, only the latent shadow that seemed to encroach on everywhere at the moment.

Belhadron was wrong. He didn't have much warning before his mare suddenly dug her feet in and slid to a frantic stop, her ears flat back and every muscle in her body tensed. Belhadron drew his sword an inch out of his scabbard and asked her forwards.

She refused, trying to spin and bolt in the other direction, her hind legs tucked beneath her to give her as much power as possible. Belhadron was hard pressed to control her, but he did manage to for the moment. He needed to know what it was that was there. Legolas and his party were not far behind him.

His mare started backing up, before her last shreds of bravery gave out and she spun on her hindquarters and attempted to bolt in the other direction. Belhadron only just stayed with her. In the next moment she skidded to a halt again, shaking in primal fear. He looked up, and heard the patter of feet in the branches above.

Before he could even ask his mare to move away, before he could draw a weapon a spider launched itself from the trees above. The mare tried to spin but there was another spider behind her, and she was trapped. In a last desperate move she spun sideways and reared, her nostrils flared in fear. Belhadron felt himself being flung backwards. For a moment he stayed on, but then she staggered back, her head coming higher and higher as the spiders tried to jump from the trees onto her back once again. One of them succeeded and any shred of sense she had remaining was lost as the mare launched herself forwards in a desperate frenzy. Belhadron was thrown clear, and he twisted in an attempt to soften his landing.

He wasn't successful. He felt his head smash into the trunk of a tree before, like a rag doll, he fell to one side into the undergrowth. The ground sloped down and he rolled, flashes of trees and a screaming horse passing sickeningly around him. Foolishly he put out a hand to try and stop himself. The next moment he was gagging on the pain, trying not to scream as there was a crack and his arm gave way beneath him.

He came to a stop below he track he had been riding on, half on his side. His arm was beneath him, but when he tried to move it and get up he had to bite back another scream, that came out as a choked noise of pain in the back of his throat. The ground had not yet settled around him, everything blurring, and he could feel the warm slick of blood as it fell down his face. He bit his lip as he tried to move once more, not preventing a whimper from escaping, and only managed to shift his legs before he nearly passed out.

Above him, he could hear he screaming of his mare as she tried to escape. He had landed so he could see the track above him, and every so often caught a glimpse of a dark coat or the flick of a tail. He wanted to cry out, tell his brave little mare to run, but he could barely breathe, let alone shout.

There can a desperate scream from above, sounding so similar to the scream of a child, and then a sickening thud as the mare overbalanced and fell. Belhadron winced as he heard the sharp crack, and he knew from the sound of her hooves scraping frantically against the earth before stilling, that she had broken herself. Later, he would be told she cracked her head when falling. For now, he merely lay there, trying not to whimper and draw attention to himself, as the spiders feasted on his mare.

He didn't know how long he was there. The pain became a near constant thing. He would give up on trying to move, before forgetting and attempting to rise, and then blacking out for a few moments each time. The blood was sticky on his face and neck, and was beginning to drip sluggishly down the back of his collar. There was a thought that he kept trying to grasp, one that slipped like the rush of water from his mind when he reached out for it. Someone was meant to be following him.

The sound of hooves broke Belhadron out of his wandering state, and with a muffled noise of pain he tried to focus. Snatches of shouts and commands filtered down to him, and he recognised one of the voices. He would know it anywhere.

There were exclamations of surprise, and then the sound of steel being drawn and the singing of bows. At the edge of his hearing, that was beginning to fade in and out now, Belhadron could hear the patter of spider feet as they began to flee the wrath of the elves, and the wrath of one elf in particular. It has not escaped their attention that it was Belhadron's mare that lay on the track in front of them.

After some short time the fighting ceased. Belhadron could hear them checking amongst each other for injuries or problems, but overriding that current of talk was one voice, and Belhadron was fairly sure it was calling his name.

The calls became more urgent, and there was movement up on the track above him. Belhadron tried to move, to see who was above him, but agony flashed through him and he collapsed back down again, a hiss coming through clenched teeth that almost turned into a whistle. The sounds petered away above him, and he wanted to scream and to be left in silence at the same time.

It was quiet. It was too quiet. He didn't know how much time passed, for it seemed to blur together in painful grey shadows.

There came a rustle from above. A curious snort. Belhadron's vision was patchy at best, but he thought he could make out a shadow of grey above him. Of course. They would have left the horses and continued on foot.

He didn't know where that thought had come from.

Hrivo- how did he know his name- snorted once more, and then made to step back to where he had been left. In the part of his mind that was still there, Belhadron was cursing. He tried to call out to the horse, to anyone who could listen. All that came from his lips was a weak whistle.

Hrivo's ears immediately pricked up and he stepped forwards. Belhadron pursed his lips and tried to whistle once more. He wasn't sure what he was doing, only that some part of him knew it was the right thing to do. A weak wavering note left his lips, cracked and broken, but still there. Hrivo stepped forwards again, and then turned his head, as if he could see Belhadron through the thick undergrowth that had swallowed the elf.

Belhadron whistled again, and Hrivo pushed his nose into the undergrowth, snorting in surprise as a branch scratched his nose. Belhadron grinned weakly, and tried to reach out for the horse, forgetting the distance and thickets between them. Fire shot through his arm and head, and then swift darkness descended.

He didn't know how long he had been passed out for when he next saw the woods around him. It must have only been a few moments, as Hrivo was still standing there. He snorted at Belhadron, reaching out with his muzzle once more.

A voice came from nearby, a familiar one, but tinged with worry and frustration. "I told you to stay put," he said, and Hrivo barely flicked one ear in reply before his gaze turned back to where Belhadron was.

There was the sound of footsteps nearby, and then Belhadron heard a soft gasp, followed by a flurry of shouted commands. Belhadron hardly realised that his eyes had fallen shut. He pried them open to see a familiar blond figure pushing their way through the undergrowth.

Legolas reached Belhadron's side and crouched down. "Ai  _mellon_ ," he murmured, hands ghosting over his friend, trying to assess him as best he could. "I'm so sorry. What hurts?"

Belhadron curved the corners of his lips up in a weak smile. "It's not...too bad," he whispered. "My...arm." He tried to move, to show him, but his body spasmed with pain and he bit back a scream.

"Stay still," ordered Legolas quickly, and he pulled off his cloak to lay beneath Belhadron's head. By this time, others had found them, and soon enough there were two elves beside Belhadron, the others of the company beginning to fashion a stretcher. Legolas issued orders with tight lips and a worried frown. "We're going to get you more comfortable," he said softly to Belhadron. "But it's going to hurt, for a bit at least."

Belhadron nodded slightly, but even the slight movement had him whimpering in pain. Legolas swallowed hard, and then nodded at the other two. One held Belhadron's head steady, whilst the other with Legolas reached beneath his chest and slowly lifted him. Belhadron let out a muffled cry and twisted his head to bite at the corner of his leather doublet as Legolas gently pulled his broken arm out from underneath him.

He screamed through clenched teeth, the pain blinding as Legolas, murmuring swift apologies and a breathless plea to the Valar, pushed the bone back into the skin and aligned it once more. Legolas' hands were shaking as he did so, and soon one of the others took over from him.

Belhadron was trembling, and turned his head to one side as he gagged. Legolas shifted so he was supporting him, keeping his head as still as possible. Every time Belhadron retched, his head throbbed, and he gagged again.

"You've really done it this time," Legolas murmured softly. Belhadron huffed a laugh as he finally grew still, and Legolas gently let him relax back down to the ground. He forcibly ignored the broken and bloody arm, instead pressing a corner of the cloak to the gash across Belhadron's head. It had mostly stopped bleeding, leaving dark crimson across Belhadron's face and neck, but Legolas gently pressed the gash shut anyway.

Belhadron trembled, and one of the other elves unfastened their cloak and laid it over him. "We can move off soon enough," he said. "They're nearly done."

Legolas nodded, and turned back to Belhadron. "I'm so sorry," he said. Belhadron looked skeptical, and Legolas chuckled brokenly. "Your mare had been dragged some way by the spiders. We were looking for you in the wrong places. If it wasn't for Hrivo's reluctance to follow my orders, then we may have been even longer."

Belhadron grinned weakly. "That accursed horse," he murmured. "But for once, I... I really do not...care."

Legolas laughed brokenly. "After all these years, you're finally warming up to him. I've always told you that his spirit would be useful one day." Belhadron chuckled slightly, though the movement had him grimacing, and Legolas smoothed the hair back from his face, frowning in worry. Above them, Hrivo stood watch, a grey shadow amongst the trees.

0-o-0-o-0

"Get to the horses! Let's move!"

There was the sound of feet pounding against stone, and then elves came running through the corridor towards the great gates, darting into rooms to reach for familiar weapons. Quivers were slung onto backs as they headed outside and to the stables. Grooms were already at the doors and they flung them open as the elves hurried inside.

In no time at all, the first horse clattered out of the stables and into the great courtyard before the forest. His rider pulled him up to an abrupt halt, and the grey coat rippled over powerful muscles as he turned his horse to face the stronghold.

Soon enough the courtyard was filled with the snorts and uneasy shifting of the horses. Weapons were only a touch away for every elf, and some were sitting on their horses with bows or knives already in hands. Yet they waited for their orders, watching the blond figure on the grey horse in front of them, and the dark-haired elf at his side.

The blond elf spoke quickly, and the company parted into three, the horses shifting easily around each other. There was a strum of tension in the air, and nobody spoke as the blond elf held up one hand, and then signalled for them to move off.

His grey jumped underneath him, and then surged forwards, hooves cutting into the packed earth. The rest of the horses followed, the three groups splitting up down the tracks leading out into the forest like a rush of water. In a few minutes, they were gone, and all that remained were the hoofprints left in the grass, and the few elves left behind watching where the forest had swallowed them up.

The deep drumming sound echoed through the forest, the pounding of hooves on packed earth sending the trees whispering amongst each other and the leaves dancing above the forest floor. The forest watched as the horses flitted amongst their trees, a grey ghost leading them deeper and deeper into the woods, into the places where the forest no longer knew what it was, where the trees were no longer trees, not to them.

And as quickly as they appeared they vanished from sight. There was near silence once more, and the trees stilled, as if holding their breath. As they had done all this time they watched, and they waited for news.

Eventually whispers spread from the south, the leaves rustling uneasily, and then a grey shadow stepped in amongst the trees. The forest sighed with relief as the horse picked its way down the track. The blond elf gently touched his horse's neck and he stopped, ears pricking forwards. In the sunlight that glanced through the canopy, his coat shimmered as he turned his head, looking towards some elusive sound.

A few more horses came trotting wearily up to the blond elf and his grey from behind, and the blond elf nodded, moving off once more. One of the other horses snorted and the grey jumped in surprise. The blond elf laughed and leant forwards, reaching one hand down his horse's neck. His weapons were on his back, and though he was blood-stained and dirty, his face was merry enough as he laughed. The silver sound filtered through the trees around him, and the forest, if it could, would have smiled.

The grey horse led the company home. The light began to dim as dusk fell, and the forest watched as the elves returned home, riding into the circle of light surrounding the courtyard. The blond elf slid from his grey's back, murmuring a few soft words as he turned to help some of the others of the company. The grey remained where his rider had left him, but still the trees watched until the blond elf returned to him, rubbing one hand down his nose in greetings.

The elf moved off but his grey stayed still for a moment. His ears pricked forwards as he looked over into the forest, and the trees, if possible, looked back. For a second there was quiet.

The moment passed as the blond elf called out, exasperated but fondly, for his horse, and the grey turned back towards his rider. The forest watched until they vanished out of sight.

0-o-0-o-0

It was late spring, and the heavy rains that accompanied the season had finally passed. Legolas rode north, heading for their north-eastern border and the elves stationed there. Truthfully, there was no need for him to go, but it had been a difficult winter, with orcs forever pushing on their southern border, and this was as close to time off as he could achieve at the moment.

Hrivo was watching the forest around them as they rode, and he seemed to delight in the heralds of summer, the green leaves over their heads and the heady scent of the later blossoms still flowering. He was a seasoned charger now, his coat hardly dappled anymore, lightening over the years. Instead it was covered in specks of brown, as if someone had taken a paintbrush and flicked it at him. He had borne Legolas through to the other side of many skirmishes by now, and each time Legolas had repaid him as best as he could.

They reached the north-eastern border just after dusk, riding into the camp and the orange circle of light spilling from the fire. It was a clear night, still slightly cold, and Legolas spent it by the fire with the other elves. Their soft song flitted through the trees and even the horses stilled at the sound.

Legolas left just before dawn, vaulting onto Hivro and turning him east. He didn't ride for long before he reached the edge of the forest. Ahead of him stretched the rolling plains of the East, the short grass dotted with cold streams from the mountains. The Sun was just rising behind Erebor in the distance, and the amber light poured over the grass, spilling across Legolas' upturned face.

The grass burnt orange, and there was no point where the land ended and the sky began anymore. Beneath him Hrivo shifted impatiently, a fierce joy running through him. Legolas smiled, and nudged him softly with his heels. It was all the permission Hrivo needed.

He surged forwards, ears pricked towards the horizon as he raced over the grass. Legolas laughed out loud as he leant back and held out both arms, the light spinning through his fingers as Hrivo galloped, skimming across the ground. He laughed again, and the sound of pure joy spiralled into the air as everything except the rush of the wind and the pound of hooves fell away.

After all, that is freedom: a horse and open skies.


End file.
